“--Mom?”
A quiet voice questions through the darkened hall; bare feet quiet among the silence, memory serving the boy to avoid the floorboards that groaned with weight. Another few, slow steps, and a second call pitches his voice, a sudden sense of desperation lingering upon his tongue.
“Mom?”
Yet still, no response was gained--at least, not the one he expected to hear. Heavy, slow breaths begin to overtake the silence, and soon, the sound is overtaken by guttural noises of threat. Growling. Something was growling just beyond the darkness, just around the corner--and that causes the young elf to falter his steps.
He stiffens, feeling as if his entire body had suddenly been frozen in ice; a creeping chill biting along his spine that warns him of danger.
Run, his body screams.
Fight, his mind demands.
And yet, he can’t seem to do either. Instead, his body stumbles forward, limbs harboring a mind of their own when teetering around the corner, the sudden soft light of candles that lit the living space blurring in the corner of his vision. Flames flicker, the light dim, but still did the invader’s form reflect in the shadows as light bounces from the ends of dirtied fur; framing the creature as a matted mess that stood far above the young elf.
Suddenly his heart feels as if its drowned in his stomach, the beast turned to stare upon the snowy-haired boy, its eyes like moonlight in the dark; dull and grey, but reflective even in the shadows. His breath hitches, and another growl breaks the silence. He’s been seen. He’s caught. Could he run--?
Then, the beast steps forward, flickering light shining upon its long muzzle, exposing the crimson-coated teeth that bared in a snarl. The sight causes Elliot’s stomach to churn, fear ingrained into his veins, knowing that he was to be next--...next--...
Mom.
Emerald eyes flicker rapidly, bouncing from wall to wall before signalling to the floor; honing in on the pale figure that lay just beyond the horrific creature. A shimmer of yellow contrasted against splatters of crimson; dress soaked in blood that clung against the still form, and hair of snow dirtied with the same coloration. The body did not move, arms splayed helplessly at the sides, and a pool of still-wet blood near black within the shadows.
He feels sick. Heat rises within his stomach, bile is on his tongue, but rage is what boils; unrelenting and screaming, a sound that is soon escaping the young elf’s own throat.
“I--I’LL KILL YOU--!”
Voice echoes with a cry, and before his mind can even catch up his body moves to rush the massive beast. Even the canine itself is surprised as the smaller body crashes into it, sending both tumbling down onto the blooded floor. They roll, and the nearby table is rocked and tumbled with their crash; breaking the legs that aided in its stand. The Worgen howls and Elliot shrieks in his rage, but his body is easily thrown off the creature like a ragdoll to tumble and hit against the fireplace.
It’s audible, the sound of his shoulder hitting stone; of bones crunching against the pure power of the man-turned-wolf. Elliot cries out, instinctively clutching at the breaking bones, but his feigned attempt at comfort is sorely sought as the Worgen crouches to four limbs and launches itself toward him with parted jaws.
Eyes snap up, and the elf scrambles and rolls to duck out of its lunge, wildly scrapping against the floor to pick himself up as the Worgen skids to a stop. It snarls, shooting that glowering gaze to the boy’s back as he struggles to feel through the dark, to find something--anything--he could use to protect himself.
Claws click against the floorboards, beginning now to stalk meek prey, crawling ever closer as the tiny elf struggles.
Skinny fingers grasp out, fingertips brushed along the broken leg of the table, and with a lunge of his own body forward, its grappled onto. His fist is tight around the carved wood, the broken end of the accidental-made stake outwards from his body as he twists and turns just as the wolf comes barreling to him.
Another yell breaks in the darkness as any and all power the Sin’dorei harbored is thrown forward, both hands wrapped desperately around the wooden leg to plunge it forward and through the neck of the attacker.
Whimpers are exposed, and a final, gurgled growl escapes the Worgen as its claws go limp, its heavy body pushing against the elf; collapsing directly upon him. Elliot gasps out as weight is thrown upon him, as a sticky, warm sensation begins to pool onto his skin, and as adrenaline dies; fear returning unrelenting. He can’t find his breath, struggling beneath the heavy body, fingers clutching at patches of fur to heft the Worgen up and squirm his way out from underneath.
Palm slams against the flooring, and he rolls himself onto his stomach, hot breath heaved with force, the faint, lingering cold of the wooden floor offering but a split moment of relief. He breathes once, twice, and trembling arms press beneath his body to clumsily stand, swaying to his feet as eyes scan the once, comforting area of living that was now left a graveyard.
“M--...ma...”
Elliot croaks, knees buckled beneath him as he slumps beside the limp corpse of his caretaker, shaken hands raised and hovered across her body; as if he could find the bleeding wound and put a stop to it. That it would at all help, that alone, he could bring her back.
Yet, she lay, broken and blooded and eyes of once, glowing green, are now nothing but a dull, withered forest. Marks of claws littered upon her abdomen, and indentations of teeth were molded into the bare flesh of shoulder.
Vision blurs, heat raising to cheeks, and before one could stop it, warm, salty tears are slipping from a pale chin accompanied by broken, choked upon sobs. Elliot’s head falls, face buried into the crook of a lifeless arm as he begins to wail; fingers clutching desperately into the blooded fabric of a once, favorite sundress.
It was until daybreak that the boy curled against a cold being, crying himself into exhaustion, and eventually, losing consciousnesses altogether. Only in that afternoon were they found by concerned neighbors, two bodies upon the floor, and the third clinging upon his mother for dear life.